Chapter 5
Loco
The radio crackled just as Lamonte and I were pulling out of the gas station, coffee steaming between the cup holders, the city still caught somewhere between dusk and night.
“Go figure,” Lamonte muttered. “I swear dispatch has a sixth sense for caffeine.”
We were on the other side of town from the call on the radio.
Another unit chimed in claiming the job, but we headed in that general direction in case back up was needed.
Not too much longer before shift change.
I had managed to settle it in my mind that this call would be the last before shift change.
Another day, another dollar, the night was a quiet one.
Something a cop never said aloud because it was a curse. Apparently, thinking it was just as bad.
I was smiling when his phone rang. That was the last normal moment of the night.
Lamonte glanced at the screen, his brow furrowing. “It’s Nita.”
He answered on the second ring. “Hey—”
Whatever she said hit him like a punch. His body snapped rigid, shoulders locking, eyes cutting to me for half a second before he turned the car in a different direction.
Good thing we didn’t radio in that we would be on scene for backup yet.
Whatever Nita said, we had a different call to answer apparently.
“Slow down,” he commanded, voice calm but tight. “Nita, slow down. What do you mean out of sorts?”
I felt it then. That low, crawling dread that started at the base of my spine and worked its way up.
Lamonte listened, nodding, running a hand over his face. “You couldn’t understand her how?”
Another pause. His jaw clenched. “She’s at her apartment?”
My chest went hollow. It was instinct that screamed this call was about Char.
Lamonte didn’t look at me when he said, “Yeah. We’ll check on her. We’re close.”
He hung up and tossed his phone on the dash as he flipped on lights and sirens while heading towards Char’s apartment complex. Were we breaking procedure? Yes. Did I care? Not at all.
“What’s going on?” I asked, though part of me already knew.
“Nita says Char called her,” he shared, passing through an intersection.. “She was off. Slurring. Not making sense. Sounded scared but wouldn’t say why. Her phone location put her at her apartment.”
The word her landed like a bruise. “She ask for help?” I asked.
“No,” he said. “Which scares the hell out of her.”
It scared the hell out of me too. I was already pulling up the address in my head, already seeing the layout of the building, the narrow stairwell, the way the light flickered in the hall because the landlord never fixed a damn thing unless the city made him.
“Did Nita call it in?” I asked.
“She wanted us to go first,” Lamonte said. “Said Char would shut down if uniforms showed up.”
That tracked. Char hated attention. Hated feeling like a problem that needed fixing.
I stared out the windshield as the city blurred past, lights streaking across the glass. I hadn’t seen her in two weeks. Two weeks shouldn’t be enough time for the world to fall apart.
But it was.
We parked half a block away, lights off, instincts already humming. The building looked the same as always—worn brick, narrow windows, a single flickering porch light that did more shadowing than illuminating.
No movement. No sound. Lamonte checked the door to the stairwell. Unlocked. Unusual but not unheard of.
“Metro Police,” he called out as we stepped inside. “Charlaina?” Her neighbor across the breezeway moved out three weeks ago and to my knowledge no one else had been moved in yet. This meant Char was the only resident on the second floor.
No answer. The air felt wrong. Too still. Too heavy. We took the stairs two at a time. Her door was cracked. That was when my heart stopped.
Adrenaline rushed through me. I pushed it open.
The atmosphere hit me all at once. Heat, it was entirely too warm.
Char didn’t like it hot, she preferred to bundle up and breathe in cooler air.
The odor of something chemical, something sharp and wrong permeated the space.
My eyes took a second to adjust to the low light, and when they did, my world shattered.
Char was on the floor.
Not just on the floor, though. She was limp, her limbs slack at angles that made no sense. Her shirt was bunched up under her ribs, her jeans half unbuttoned.
And over her… there he was.
Her ex.
Hands already on her waistband, eyes wild, mouth twisted in something ugly and desperate.
“Police!” Lamonte shouted.
The man’s head snapped up. Everything happened at once. He lunged.
Not at Char. At Lamonte.
I moved on instinct, dropping to my knees beside Char as Lamonte intercepted him. I barely registered the crash of bodies, the grunt of exertion, the sound of furniture tipping. We were trained. Lamonte could handle this, Char needed me. Her life depended on it.
I was already checking her neck for a pulse. Nothing.
“No,” I breathed.
I pressed harder, fingers searching. Frantically, checking her wrist. Nothing.
“Char,” I said, louder now. “Char, hey. Stay with me.”
Her lips were blue. My hands shook as I tilted her head back, clearing her airway, counting in my head as I started compressions.
“One, two, three,” my breath coming in pants as the exertion begins.
Putting the pressure on someone’s chest in order to restart the heart wasn’t easy.
It took power. Sometimes even cracking people’s ribs.
I didn’t want that for her, but I would do whatever she needed to get her blood flowing once again.
Behind me, there was shouting. Cursing. The sound of a struggle. I couldn’t turn around. I couldn’t afford to. Char needed my focus.
“Come on, baby,” I said, my voice breaking as I counted. “You don’t get to leave. Not like this.”
Something exploded behind me. There was white powder bursting into the air. I felt a faint dusting against my own skin.
“Dante!” Lamonte coughed.
I flinched but didn’t stop. “Stay with me,” I told Char. “Stay with me. Don’t give up. This isn’t how you go out, baby.”
The man yelled something incoherent. I heard Lamonte gag, heard him stumble. I should’ve turned.
I didn’t. I trusted him. I trusted him like I trusted myself to survive any situation. We were the good guys nothing would happen. We weren’t in a war zone.
The popping went off and I knew the sound. Gun shot. The sound was wrong, too loud, too close, too final.
I spun just in time to see Lamonte stagger back, his hand flying to his neck.
Blood poured through his fingers.
“No,” I screamed. “No, no, no!”
The man bolted for the door. I drew my weapon on reflex, firing twice as he disappeared into the stairwell. I didn’t know if I hit him. I didn’t know anything except that Lamonte was on his knees, blood pooling on the floor, and Char still wasn’t breathing.
“Lamonte!” I shouted rushing to him, but not quickly enough.
He dropped to the ground hard, then shook his head, waving me away with a blood-slicked hand. I took my hand and removed his briefly. Bullet has an entry wound but no exit. This was not a graze like I hoped. I put his hand back in place and went to grab my radio but Lamonte cut me off.
“Don’t,” he rasped. “Stay, stay with her.”
He grabbed the radio on his shoulder strap with shaking fingers. “Officer down,” he choked out. “Shots fired. Suspect fled on foot.” I heard the crackling then the dispatch response as Lamonte rattled off our location.
He crawled toward me, dragging himself across the floor until his back pressed against mine, solid, warm, and very present.
“I got the door,” he explained hoarsely. “You got her. Dante, keep compressions. Help is coming, brother.”
I let out a roar just once, sharp and ugly, then forced all the emotions down.
I couldn’t fall apart. Not now.
I resumed compressions, my arms burning, sweat dripping into my eyes.
“Come on,” I whispered. “Please.”
Sirens wailed in the distance. Lamonte’s breathing was labored and wrong behind me, each inhale a struggle.
“I’m gonna be okay,” he kept repeating, like he was trying to convince himself. “You hear me? Marines don’t go out like this.”
I wanted to argue. To turn and help him. To do something other than feel helplessly torn between two people I cared about.
Char’s chest finally shuddered. A weak, broken gasp tore from her throat.
“EMS is almost here,” I told her, though I didn’t know if she could hear me. “You’re not alone. I’ve got you.”
She didn’t open her eyes, didn’t choke out, didn’t really change much except the small, barely noticeable change to breathing again.
Noise came from the doorway. The apartment filled with chaos—boots pounding into the room, voices shouting, hands on my shoulders pulling me back.
Paramedics took over, working on Char and Lamonte simultaneously, the room a blur of gloves and gauze and shouted vitals.
I stood there, hands shaking, covered in blood that wasn’t mine, watching the two people I cared about most get wheeled out on stretchers. I followed them to the hospital in silence, sirens screaming overhead, my heart lodged somewhere in my throat.
For the first time in my life, I didn’t know who to pray for first. Not that any God was willing to hear from a man like me.
But one thing my time in the Marines taught me, when you had nothing else left, faith didn’t hurt.
Right now, I was desperate. I wasn’t sure how much more I could lose without breaking completely.